


Red White and Blue, Emphasis on Red

by McGinnisINC



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:38:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McGinnisINC/pseuds/McGinnisINC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers/OFC. Someone made her a freak. Her freakishness landed her in prison. And then with the Avengers. “I’ve been kidnapped from prison by one group of people to avoid being abducted by another group of people, seemingly because the second group of people infected me with weird abilities that destroyed my hair and the first group of people need this freaky ability to - what was it? Disarm a bomb?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Keep Away From Flammable Anything

When Nick Fury told him that they were headed to a prison, Steve Rogers was far from impressed. He was used to being left mostly in the dark regarding some of the more obscure parts of SHIELD, and so he only wasted a few errant thoughts on why in the world the energy source Stark and Banner needed was in a Midwest prison. 

“It’s the heat source,” Fury had explained. “Remember that bomb we recovered a few months ago? Banner and Stark managed to disarm it, but the particles are slowly dissolving. Soon the device will be armed again. Most of their attempts have been unsuccessful but they have isolated a unique compound in the explosive material. They can permanently disarm the bomb if they can counteract that isotope. So, they built up a mock of the isotope. They were just going to try to make it organically, but our database tracked an identical compound to an arsonist in this prison.” 

“One of the dames in this prison managed to make this new isotope?” Rogers had asked, skeptical.

Fury had just shrugged, crossed his arms and leaned back in the passenger seat of the van a little deeper. 

Steve let to conversation go and instead tried to focus on getting this meeting over with as fast as possible. He wasn’t used for guard-duty, and he didn’t appreciate it. This was one step above the USO tours he used to do. 

The prison guards met their van at the gates. Fury waved a badge and it was enough to get them in. Steve bent over to exit the van with some grace and glanced around. Tall wire fences topped with barbed wire, sparse grass patches, solid metal doors. It looked like death all around them. Adjusting his shield on his arm, Steve followed after Fury. 

“We usually don’t allow these kinds of visits,” the warden immediately told them. He was a stout little man with a strong jaw and piercing baby-blue eyes. 

Fury looked the man up and down. “Warden Trites, I understand that this might seem unusual, but it’s a matter of national security,” he explained. 

Trites lingered on Fury’s eyepatch a moment more than polite but let the men into the prison. “I’ll warn you,” he began just as reached the visiting room. “She’s already asking for her lawyer. Loudly. And obnoxiously.”

“This goes beyond attorneys,” Fury simply said. “And besides, we just want information.”

Warden Trites gave the men one last look and then swung open the door. 

Steve took immediate stock of the room: empty except for a table, three chairs, and a one woman. The dame was shackled to her chair and the table both. Clad in an unattractive orange, she stared at the visitors with daggers in her eyes from under blonde hair that was obviously dyed - her much darker roots nearly reached her ears. 

“What do you want?” she asked, lowly.

~*~

Maisie watched the two men as they strutted into the room, one more cautiously than the other. The black guy quickly looked her over and then took a seat opposite her. The guy in the blue spangled suit waited to get a full assessment of the room and its occupant before stationing himself in the corner. Neither bothered to answer her question, which only made her angrier. 

“I want my lawyer present during any and all interrogations,” she finally fell back on. The black guy just blinked at her and pulled out a file.

“Maisie Logan,” he read aloud. “Incarcerated in Pentworth Women’s Prison these past two years. Sentenced to twelve years with the opportunity for parole after seven. It seems you enjoy setting fires, Miss Logan.”

“I’ll take this time to remind you of my fifth amendment right,” she spoke calmly. “I demand my lawyer.”

“You burned down a frat house two and a half years ago,” he continued to read. “Two young men were completely incinerated on site, one was brought to the hospital with burns covering ninety-five percent of his body and then succumbed to his injuries. Two young women died from smoke inhalation, bringing your body count to five, Miss Logan.”

The black guy looked up at her for the first time since he’d opened her file. Even the blue man in the corner was observing her more closely. She knew what they were looking for. It was what everyone was always looking for: some kind of reaction on her part. She kept her expression like steel and simply repeated, “Lawyer.”

He turned back to the file. “And you would have gotten away with it, too,” he hummed in the back of his throat as he read on. “By all means, the fire used no accelerant. There was no sign of foul play besides how fast the house went up. You were even in the house at the time and sustained injuries - minor ones, but it certainly all seemed like an accident. And then investigators checked your house and discovered you had a habit of playing with fire. In fact, you left scorch marks in your backyard with an almost identical intensity as the fire in the frat house.” 

When he made the mistake of taking a breath, Maisie jostled her chains roughly and shouted to anyone that would listen, “I’m exercising my fifth amendment right. And I want my lawyer. Now.”

“Miss Logan,” the black man continued. “You completed law school. Surely you count as your own attorney.”

Her eyes snapped back to him and despite better reasoning, she felt the need to tell him, “I never passed the bar, I don’t count as anything except educated about my rights. Which are being violated right now. By you.”

“We’re just here for information,” he tried again.

“I’ve already been convicted and I have a right to protect myself against self-incrimination,” she recited. “All the information I could possibly provide is in the trial transcript.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, leaning a bit over the table. “Miss Logan, do you have any connection to any science facility?”

“Lawyer,” she gritted out.

“Any connection to a laboratory?”

“Lawyer.”

“Any connection to any international organization?”

“Lawyer.”

The man suddenly leaned much closer. “Miss Logan, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he explained.

Maisie flinched back and hated herself for it. Her gaze drifted down to the file open in front of her. In the top left corner was her mugshot. Pale skin was accented by the dark bags under her eyes. Her hair was perfectly dyed back then, but was a rat’s nest masquerading as a bob. She looked lost and scared. Maisie remembered it all so vividly and she also recalled her promise to herself to never feel like that. Fierce blue eyes left the stale paper on the table to meet the sparkling dark brown eye of this strange man. 

“Lawyer,” she whispered, dangerously. 

In retrospect, this scene probably looked hilarious. She had no idea who the man in front of her was, but her brain had finally latched onto who the man in the corner was. It had been easy to persuade the crotchety guard to turn to volume up about two years ago when those crazy aliens were invading New York. Tucked safely in the Midwest, Maisie was still a little nervous. The news coverage that followed detailed the group of warriors who battled against the aliens - one wore an obnoxiously bright blue spangled outfit just like this man. Captain America is what the people called him. How obnoxious, Maisie had thought at the time. And while she certainly had no idea who the man in front of her was, she could guess the man was dangerous. The eyepatch told her most of what she needed to know. 

So, here she was, with a superhuman, alien-fighting hero, and a badass, eyepatch-wearing dude. For all intents and purposes, she should be incredibly intimidated at this moment. But she knew something they didn’t know and that was all she needed to keep her composure and stay strong.

The black man continued to stare her down for only a few more moments. Slowly, he leaned back and crossed his arms. 

“There isn’t anything more to you, is there?” he glanced her up and down. “I expected to come here and find a twenty-seven year old woman with clandestine connections to terrorist organizations, maybe be a spy herself. But you’re exactly who your file makes you out to be: a former law student who likes to play with fire and who killed a few people as a result of that hobby.” Sighing, he closed the file and turned to his companion. “Won’t Stark and Banner shit themselves when they find out this lady stumbled on the isotope by accident?”

Maisie furrowed her brows and leaned forward a little bit. The jingling of her chains made both men glance at her. She recognized Stark - everyone knew Tony Stark. Why would he be interested in her fiery hobby? And what the heck was up with this isotope?

“Stopped asking for your lawyer, Miss Logan?” the man teased. He picked up the file and pushed his chair out to stand. 

She just glared right back at him, imagining his dinky little eyepatch erupting into flames. It made her feel calmer. 

With a sharp nod, both men exited the room and shut the door behind them. 

~*~

“Sir, she seems like she doesn’t know anything,” Steve offered.

Fury nodded, thoughtful. “Yes, besides being a bit annoying, my gut’s telling me that she’s clean. Well, besides the murder and arson.”

“Besides that,” Steve muttered. He glanced back at the door. She had a strong backbone, he had to admit. But he definitely wondered where that conviction came from. 

“That doesn’t mean she can’t be useful,” Fury decided, more to himself. “If we can insure that she can replicate the fire from the frat house, she would save Stark and Banner a lot of time. Maybe we can offer to reduce her sentence or something.” He shrugged and then reentered the room. Steve followed close behind him.

“Lawyer,” she spit at them. Steve had to stop himself from instinctively falling into a defensive stance from the venom in her words. Her mood seemed to have shifted since they left. Steve hoped it wasn’t because of Fury’s last comment. There wasn’t a lot about women Steve had come to know, but he had learned from Natasha that if you let a woman think too much about how angry she is - it’ll just make her angrier.

“One last question,” Fury began.

“Lawyer,” Maisie Logan breathed. It was barely a whisper.

Fury ignored her and continued, “Can you replicate the fire you made at the frat house?”

Suddenly, she seemed to perk up. The high intensity of her anger seemed to dissolve into the air and she even sat up straighter. Cocking her head to the side, she let a small, tight-lipped smile cross her face. “Replicate the fire?” she asked, innocently enough.

Steve immediately moved closer to Fury, his shield at the ready. Fury tensed and Steve knew that they both sensed something bad was about to happen.

“Sure,” she smiled wider, shrugging. Then, her eyes flickered down to the file in Fury’s hand.

The corner closest to her erupted into flames, quickly spreading across the entire eight by eleven folder. Fury dropped the file onto the table and took a step back as Steve moved to cover the both of them with his shield. But they realized the fire was kept secluded to the paper on the table. Maisie sat, watching the way the paper sizzled and rolled onto itself. Her brows were furrowed in - not concentration… something else, but something Steve couldn’t identify. Slowly, he lowered his shield and his gaze drifted to whatever she was so focused on.

When Fury had dropped the file, it had opened. Red and orange engulfed the words on the pages in front of them, but the intensity of the heat melted Maisie’s mugshot, before browning it. The three individuals in the room watched as her face completely disappeared before anyone said anything.

It was Maisie who spoke first. “Didn’t expect it to be that big of a blast,” she said. Her voice was low and distant. “Sorry. Hope that wasn’t your only copy.”

Fury glanced between the woman, the smoldering remains of her file, and then finally Steve. When the captain only shrugged, Fury focused back on Maisie. They both knew that this new development changed some things. 

“How long have you been able to do that?” Fury didn’t bother to sit again.

Maisie glanced up from the mess she’d made and smiled, snarkily. “Lawyer,” was all she said. 

“Miss Logan,” Fury sighed. “I really don’t care - about anything to do with you. I don’t care how long you’ve been able to… set fire to things with your mind… I don’t care that you used that ability to hurt people. I don’t care that you’re in prison.”

“Glad we cleared that up,” Maisie snarked again. Steve noticed that it was almost like a burden had been taken off her shoulders. He wondered who else knew about her abilities. 

“My name is Nick Fury. That’s Captain Steve Rogers,” he pointed to Steve. “We need to defuse a bomb. The fire you made involved an isotope we need to defuse it. Now that we know that you’re literally the source of that isotope, we’re prepared to offer you a deal. We’ll give you a break from prison while you help us and then a shorter sentence when you get back.”

“I refuse,” was all she said, leaning back thoughtfully. Fury frowned.

“This is a good deal -” he tried to argue.

Maisie just shook her head. “No, this was a mistake. I let my anger get the best of me. Here’s what you’re not telling me: I leave here with you to do your bidding and all the while I’m surrounded by your superhero agents making sure I don’t try to escape. I get back here when I’ve stopped being useful and then I’m isolated from the rest of the prison. You think I’ll be allowed to go with you, use my freaky fire powers for your benefit and then be allowed back in gen-pop? No, it’ll be solitary for me - completely inflammable rooms. So, you’re going to leave here and we’re going to forget this happened. Find another way to defuse your bomb.”

Fury rubbed his head forehead in agitation. Steve had only ever seen Stark make Fury this upset. But something occurred to him. 

“Miss Logan?” he interrupted. Fury shot him a look, but he pressed forward. “If you were capable of this kind of ability all along, why didn’t you use it to escape?”

She looked at him like he was an idiot. “What? Use my creepy fire powers to escape law enforcement so that Stark in his suit or you fresh out of the ice cap can come track me down? You people make that nearly impossible. So, uh, thanks for that, Fourth of July.” Despite her shackles, she still pulled off a half decent mock-salute. Steve flushed an angry red and glared a little bit.

“Enough,” Fury suddenly barked. 

“My thoughts exactly,” Maisie matched his tone. “You two can leave now.”

Fury stood abruptly. “You’re coming with us.”

“You need an order from the warden, the governor and my attorney before you can move me - with or without my consent,” she shot back at him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Miss Logan,” Fury suddenly leaned across the table, big hands splayed in front of the woman. “Our organization needs none of that.”

Suddenly realization seemed to hit Maisie. Her eyes went wide and she instinctively pulled at her chains. And that was when the shit hit the fan, as Tony liked to say.


	2. Boom, Boom, Baby

An explosion rocked the entire building and for a moment Maisie was petrified she was the cause of it. But a quick assessment of the room told her that nothing was on fire and she’d never set anything aflame that was out of her sight. Fury pulled a gun Maisie was convinced he wasn’t actually allowed to have in the prison from a holster while the captain hefted his shield up before sharply bringing it down on the table. Maisie didn’t understand why for a moment but as her chains slid free from the table, she realized they were being evacuated. 

“What the fuck is happened?” Fury snarled into a walkie-talkie at the same time that Rogers rounded the table and jutted his shield onto the shackles that held both her feet to the chair. He left the ones on her hands alone, she noted bitterly. While her feet and legs were free of any metal, her hands were still shackled together, just not to the table. 

“They aren’t responding,” Fury realized. 

“Who could it be?” Rogers asked. 

“Let’s start by listing all of your enemies alphabetically,” Maisie couldn’t help but snark. “We’ll get to them eventually.”

“Or, we could list your enemies,” Rogers shot back, grabbing her by the upper arm roughly. Maisie blinked as she realized his hand took up most of her upper arm and reached all the way around. This guy was huge. 

Her brain clear enough that she responded, “I don’t have enemies. Except maybe the families of the people I killed. But I don’t think any of them would be willing to bomb a prison.”

Another explosion shook the prison again just as they exited the interrogation room. Fury lead the way, while Steve kept a solid grip on both Maisie and his shield. 

“It might not be an enemy,” Fury speculated. “It could be someone that wants to use her abilities.” Without wasting a moment, Fury swung around and got in her face. “Who else knows about your powers?”

Maisie felt like a deer in headlights - or, like a mortal in the middle of an explosion - and instead just kind of gaped at him. 

“Miss Logan - we do not have time -” 

“No one,” Maisie finally forced out of her mouth. “I haven’t told anyone. The only people who would know would be the people who gave it to me.”

“Gave it to you?” Rogers questioned. 

She tried to pull away from him a bit but his grip was true. “Well, I certainly wasn’t born like this,” she explained. Or at least, she assumed she hadn’t been. She’d never heard of anyone being born with the ability to set things on fire with their mind. But she did know that people like the Hulk and the Captain had been given their powers through a certain series of events - unfortunate or otherwise. 

That was as far as the conversation went. As soon as they rounded the corner into the main part of the prison, Maisie could barely focus on keeping one foot in front of the other, let alone holding a conversation about genetics and unfortunate events. 

There were sirens screeching at high-intensity here especially. Inmates were still locked in their cells because it was in between meals and work, and the women were frantic. Everyone knew that something was wrong. Maisie had made some friends within her two years in the prison, but none in this block. Though, she did recognize some faces. As the captain pulled her along, she tried not to think about what was going to happen to the people still trapped in their cells. 

One more corner brought them to the main hub of the prison; the place where they had meals everyday. They had barely stumbled into the area when the wall across from them burst open with an explosion of concrete and plaster. Maisie instinctively coiled into herself and closed her eyes. When a loud clanging sound replaced what should have been bricks pummeling her body, she allowed herself to open her eyes. The captain’s shield was extended in front of both of them, protecting her. 

Just as she opened her mouth to thank him, he pushed her behind himself and tilted the shield, intending to chuck it at whoever managed to enter the main room through the newly-made hole in the wall. 

Several people, it turned out, entered from the newly-made hole in the wall. Maisie watched them over Roger’s shoulder as he continued to shield her. Whether it was because he knew she was weaker or because he believed that they were after her, Maisie didn’t know. 

The men and at least three women, were armed with guns. The captain deflected a few bullets and then chucked the shield at a cluster. He only managed to hit two, the rest jumped out of the way. As the shield ricocheted off the wall, he managed to take out another one. And then the Cap was on the move, catching the shield in mid-air and tossing it again. Fury was invested in his own battle, and even when he ran out of bullets, he just plucked a gun off of one of the attackers. Maisie watched in fascination, briefly forgetting that now she was without a human shield. 

It didn’t seem to matter though, as the two men were pretty much keeping the attackers at bay. Maisie used the wall behind her to force her legs into a standing position. In the process, she glanced up. The main hub had external hallways on both the second and third levels, so there were balconies surround the entire area above the ground floor. It seemed reinforcements were coming in from above. Maisie opened her mouth, turning to shout some kind of warning to Fury and the captain, but something obstructed her mouth - her whole head in fact. 

She screamed instead.

~*~

The scream was so muffled that Steve barely heard it. Twisting around, he instantly noted the problem: whoever these bastards were, they had come in from above too and had gotten their hands on Maisie. Steve tried to get to her, but it was too late. The black-clad intruder had a zipline around him and just as Steve noticed him, he was zipped back up to the third floor balcony, a hooded Maisie in his grip. 

A bullet ripped clean through his shoulder and Steve didn’t waste a moment - he switched the shield to his other arm and broke through the mass of intruders. 

“They got her!” he shouted to Fury.

“I noticed! Go!” he shouted back. “I got this!”

Steve nodded and crouched low. Forcing power into his legs, he jumped up to the second floor balcony and used that railing to push himself up to the next floor. Then, he was taking after the kidnappers. Yes, they were slowed down by Maisie but Steve had been slowed down fighting his way through. And a few attackers fell back, hoping to keep the supersoldier distracted while the kidnapper got away with the target. 

They didn’t last long, but even as Steve broke free of any distraction, he saw that he was too late. The attackers had used a hole in the third floor and vehicle was waiting for them. Just as Steve made it to the opening, the car was rolling away. Steve braced himself to jump, not giving up in the slightest, when… the car exploded. 

Everything stopped for a moment as Steve watched the car break apart right in front of him - a safe distance but he could still feel the heat from the blast. 

Flames licked up from the wreckage and Steve swore as he jumped down from the third floor and bounded over to the crash. There was no way she could have survived. Literally, no way. Except… Steve might have been able to walk away alive. Thor would have been fine too. Tony in his suit… It was possible.

And… there! At first Steve thought it was just a body part that had dislodged from its body because it was the only bit of flesh amid a small storm of flame. But a closer look told him all he needed to know: the leg was connected to that small fire, a fire that was in the shape of a person and was slowly putting itself out. Steve watched as her thigh became visible under the flames, her other calf, her other thigh, her… Steve looked away at that point, just in time to see Fury come running up behind him. 

“What the hell happened?” he yelled.

“The car exploded,” Steve said simply.

“And Maisie Logan?” Fury immediately questioned.

Steve gestured to the naked young woman, now completely flame-free, as well as injury free.

“Shit…” Fury mumbled. 

Steve had to agree.

~*~  
Maisie couldn’t remember the last time she felt this shitty. There was that one morning after her twenty-first birthday and then there was… that one afternoon when she’d woken up in the middle of a park after having disappeared for a whole day and a half. That had been fun to explain to her roommates. And by explain, she meant she basically just gaped at them when they told her how long she’d been missing and then stuttered, “I had no idea I was that drunk…”

Well, Maisie didn’t remember drinking the night before - mostly because she vividly remembered being in her cell and she knew there wasn’t any booze in prison. So at the moment, she had no way to explain the ache in her body.

Her eyes cracked open and she immediately wished she could close them again. The room was incredibly too white - too sterile and too bright. There was suddenly an obnoxious beeping in her right ear and she turned her head, looking for the sound. A monitor. Like, right out of a medical drama or some something. 

Groaning, she tried and failed to sit up. Instead, she slouched back down and let out an angry puff of air. She wanted answers. Surely, she was out of the prison - but how? 

Closing her eyes again, she tried to piece together the last things she remembered - being in her cell, that was a given. Then other images came together: the guards coming for her, telling her she had visitors., meeting that cyclops and his spangled companion. 

Ah, shit, she thought. She had gotten agitated and set something on fire, hadn’t she? Was that why she was here now? No… they had talked a bit after that… the explosions!

Maisie startled in the hospital bed. The prison had been attacked. Like something straight out of a movie, there had been people in black garb - black helmets, who had broken the walls of the prison down and who had tried to attack them. The spangled man - Captain America - had protected her pretty substantially but then he’d gotten distracted and she’d gotten kidnapped anyway. 

Briefly, she recalled her feet leaving the ground and her body being dragged a bit before being suspended in air again. The sound of tires skidding seemed to follow and then - she was stuffed somewhere. 

That hadn’t suited her at all, she recalled. 

She had been scared and angry. Mostly just confused. After figuring out that sometimes that things she looked at started on fire, that was all Maisie had thought she’d ever need to come to grips with. Instead, there were these strangers and they were prepared to take her God-only-knew-where. And maybe they would be nice - but maybe they would kill her. If they were the people who had created her, she could be their prize or their failed experiment. Either way, Maisie didn’t want to know. 

Everything had gotten too hot, she remembered. Like a fever starting right in between her breasts and moving up and down simultaneously. Within a few moments of being trapped in that small space, the heat pulsed its way down to her toes and up to her brain. There was so much pressure in her head, she felt dizzy and she wondered, distantly, why she was holding onto the pressure. So she let it go and the darkness around her turned red. 

Everything was red.

And then everything was black.

Maisie’s eyes flew open just as the door she hadn’t noticed before slid open. It was Fury again, followed by two men - one she certainly didn’t recognize and one she would know anywhere because honestly, in this day and age, who didn’t know Tony Stark?

“You’re awake,” Fury commented.

“Are you sure?” Maisie croaked. She wasn’t expecting the tension in her throat. “Your face has me convinced I’m still trapped in a nightmare.”

“Snappy little firecracker,” Stark muttered, coming over to the monitor. Maisie watched, astonished, as the monitor she had thought was a standard hospital model suddenly projected itself off the screen. Stark fiddled with the controls briefly and then leaned over Maisie. “Literally, as I hear it. Love to see a demonstration as soon as you’re up for it.”

It took her a moment to register what exactly he was referring to but when she did, she simply frowned and tried to push herself deeper into the massive pillow behind her head. Already, she knew if she did give this man a demonstration, it would involve flaming his goatee straight off his face.

Stark’s companion came closer into the room and took a moment to spare his own glance at her monitor. Together, they observed the monitor, using just their fingers to move the tabs and change the settings. “Everything seems pretty stable,” he commented. “Which is promising, considering…” He made a little gesture with his hands and then seemed to notice that Maisie was watching him. 

“Considering what?” she asked, having caught on super quick. 

The man glanced hesitantly at Stark, probably silently asking if he should say anything, but already Stark’s mouth was open. “Considering you exploded a car.”

“I did what?” Maisie tried to force herself into a sitting position again and this time it seemed to stick.

“Yup,” Stark smiled, almost gleefully. “And then, when Cap found you, you were literally a mass of flames.”

Immediately, Maisie lifted a hand up to her face as though to check that she wasn’t still on fire. Which was silly, of course she wasn’t still on fire - she’d know. But she hadn’t known that she could set herself on fire. Logically, she knew that she only escaped the frat fire with some mild smoke inhalation and that was mostly the debris that had gotten into her lungs. She should have walked away with at least third degree burns, but even though her clothing had burned clear off her body on some parts, she had been largely unharmed. 

“Don’t worry,” Stark continued, watching her actions with such enjoyment she wanted to punch him in the face. “Cap says you put yourself out just fine. Naked. But fine.”

Maisie glared, more at the goatee than the man himself but knew enough to keep silent. She had no clue where in the world she was - she only knew that she had been plucked from prison and attacked by strange men, only to be rescued by strange men. It was better just to play along, she decided. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark,” a British man said, seemly out of nowhere. Maisie craned her head, looking for the owner of the voice. 

“What is it JARVIS?” Stark asked, not actually looking away from monitor. This only confused Maisie further.

“Miss Potts has arrived home, shall I brief her on the situation?” 

Stark lifted his head to squint at the ceiling. “No,” he decided. “I’ll do it myself.”

And then he was out the door. 

Maisie watched him leave, still utterly confused. Then she took stock of the rest of the room - sometime when she had been distracted by Stark, Fury had managed to leave without her noticing. That left her with just the companion she didn’t recognize. Shifting in her bed, she realized he was observing her. 

When they made eye contact, he glanced away. “Are you feeling better?” he asked, more to the monitor he had returned to fiddling with rather than her. 

“I feel like shit,” she muttered. “But I imagine I’m better off than a lot of other people after being set on fire.” 

He chuckled at that. “True,” he agreed. “You’re quite the anomaly, Miss Logan.”

“Yeah, after I started using my mind to set fire to things that pissed me off, I figured there was something off about me,” Maisie shot back. Mostly, she was growing more nervous. Being told that you were an anomaly was rarely a good thing - especially when you were hooked up to a bunch of wires, for all purposes trapped in an unfamiliar location. How long until someone wanted to turn her into an experiment?

The man seemed to sense her trepidation. “When I heard the source of our isotope could be found in a state prison, I was skeptical,” he told her. “But you’re incredibly more interesting than an arsonist who accidentally mixed the right amount of a few accelerants and made a new isotope. And honestly, you’re in good company.”

“Oh?” Maisie didn’t even bother to keep her mouth shut. “Can you throw rocks with your mind?”

He blinked at her and then chuckled. “No, can’t say I can do that,” he admitted. “But sometimes I turn green, grow ten sizes bigger than this, and can chuck rocks with my over-sized hands.” He turned back to the monitor, but Maisie kept watching him.

Yes, he was that guy. The news coverage of the New York attack came back to her vividly: Ironman, Captain America, a weird dude with a hammer and cape, a redhead badass lady, an archer and… and the big green guy. This was his… human form?

“Thanks for the New York thing,” she said before she fully realized she was even speaking. 

He glanced down at her, startled for a moment. “Uh… you’re welcome,” he responded. It sounded more like a question than an actual response but Maisie didn’t push it. She didn’t even know why she had said anything to begin with.

Maisie sat in silence for a while, watching him watch the monitor. After a while, he seemed satisfied with whatever he was looking for. “Yeah, everything’s normal,” he commented, distracted. 

“Was it not normal before?” Maisie asked, stretching to get a better look at the screen. She had never considered any physical anomalies while using her abilities - was her fire changing something inside herself?

“Huh?” The man glanced back at her. “Oh, yeah - I mean, everything was normal but Tony and I wanted to just make sure there was no side effects. We’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Well, I’m certain there are weirder things out there to occupy your time,” she shot back.

He had the decency to wince at least a little. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He pulled out a chair next to the bed Maisie hadn’t seen before then. “With Rogers - we know the origins of his abilities, we know the science. Even with my… condition. It’s erratic, but the science is explainable. We don’t have a strong basis for what could have caused someone to be able to start a fire with their brain, or set their whole body on fire without injury. I can speculate some of the science, but without the previous research, we’re mostly working from scratch.”

“I’m not a lab rat,” she argued. “And I don’t want to be.”

“Didn’t say that,” he shot back, kindly. “Believe me, I of all people know what’s it like to want to be left alone. But aren’t you at least a little curious? If not about who did this to you, then what exactly you’re capable of. Or - if it’ll eventually fade away? If it’ll get worse? If it’ll hurt your overall health? I mean, it already ended you up in prison.”

At that, she had to cut him off. “I ended myself up in prison,” she snapped. The man leaned back a little bit in his chair, confusion clouding his face. Maisie took a verbal step back. “But yeah - you’re right. Knowing the long-term effects is probably a good idea.”

The man nodded. And Maisie relaxed, running a hand through her hair and leaning back into the pillow. She didn’t know if it was because she was worried he’d turn into the green man or if she was worried she was close to alienating the one person who hadn’t been an ass to her since she woke up. Her worries stopped circling her brain the moment she realized she was missing something. As her fingers ran through her hair, they stopped way too abruptly.

“Who cut my hair?” she demanded, sitting up violently. Stars danced around the outskirts of her vision, but she was too focused on the man in front of her to care much.

“What do you mean?” 

Maisie groaned and kicked the blankets off herself, swinging her legs clear off the bed to stand up. The man was two steps ahead of her - already pushing her back onto the bed. “You came in like this,” he explained. “No one cut your hair.”

“Came in like what?” she demanded. 

“Uh…” he turned back to the monitor and hit a few buttons. Maisie tried not to be too impressed when he pinched his fingers together and seemed to pull a screen right off the monitor, flipping it to face her. She was met with the equivalent of a webcam, projecting her own image back at her.

Her hair was worse than she thought - it was a cross between a pixie and a bob, almost like it couldn’t decide which one it wanted to be. And it was all brunette. True, the blonde she had paid good money to be hadn’t been redone since she was a free woman, but at least it had still been there. Now, it was like someone had just removed the dyed ends and left the natural hair.

“What the hell?” she exclaimed.

“I imagine that isn’t the hairstyle you had prior to being brought here?” he offered.

“My hair reached here,” she explained, gesturing to a place between her collarbone and the beginning of her cleavage. “It was dyed blonde. Literally all that’s left are my roots.” She groaned. It had been decades since she’d had hair this short and she hated it now more than ever. 

“All that’s left are the roots?” he murmured. Then, he pulled the monitor screen away from her, which was just as well because it was making her sick to look at herself. His fingers buzzed on the screen for a few moments before he asked, “When was the first time you used your powers?” 

She blinked at him, confused. Someone had cut her hair off her head, what did this have to do with the fire-thing? “Three years ago…?” she answered anyway.

“Month?”

“February…?”

“And when was the last time you go your hair dyed?”

“... February.” She sat there thinking for a moment. “Wait - you think my hairstylist gave me these powers?”

He glanced at her, distracted for a moment and then shook his head. “Which came first? The dye job or the fire?”

That one was tough. She only knew that both occurred in February because the frat fire happened early March and she’d been arrested two days before her touch-up appointment. Finally she concluded, “The dye job.”

When he didn’t speak for a while, just kept moving his fingers on that damn monitor, Maisie finally spoke up again. “What’s the diagnosis, doc?”

“I’m wondering if your powers involved some kind of change at the molecular level…” he finally explained. “Everything about you would have been altered to accommodate both the ability to produce fire, but also to withstand it - well, everything living. All of your cells would have been altered and reprogrammed so that every time they reproduce, the same abilities are encoded in your DNA. The only difference would have been dead cells - like hair and fingernails. Your nails have already regrown a few times over these past three years. But your hair - it wasn’t the dye job, it was the hair that had been on your head before the molecular change.”

Maisie fingered her short locks and pondered about the fact that these strands were genetically altered. It was overwhelmingly too much to handle. 

“Shit…” she muttered. 

The man finally pulled himself away from the monitor and decided, “I’ll keep looking into it. For now, take a break. Get some rest.” Using his fingers once again, he pulled the screen clear off the monitor again, this time retrieving a phone from his pocket and transferring the screen onto his device. And Maisie had thought her macbook was fancy…

“Can I take these off?” she asked, gesturing to the wires. Thankfully none of them were penetrating her skin - there were all on the surface. 

“I believe so,” he agreed, helping her remove each wire. Once that was done, he headed for the door, pausing only to turn back and tell her, “By the way, the name’s Dr. Bruce Banner. Sorry we seemed to have skipped over the formal introductions.”

“I’ve been kidnapped from prison by one group of people to avoid being abducted by another group of people, seemingly because the second group of people infected me with weird abilities that destroyed my hair and the first group of people need this freaky ability to - what was it? Disarm a bomb?” Maisie leaned back in the bed again and sighed. “Yeah, fuck formal introductions.”

Banner just smiled at her and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still happening? Still happening. Sweet. Thanks for reading, y'all.


	3. Chapter 3

The door sliding open woke her up. Her hands immediately went to the drool that had made its way down her chin and wiped it pretty covertly before the intruder got a good look at her. The Captain. Great. Because the one thing she needed (this morning? Night?) was to have his patronizing gaze on her. 

“Rested?” he asked. 

“As much as one can be, behind enemy lines, sir,” she quipped. 

His shining blue eyes stopped shining quite as brightly. “We aren’t your enemy,” he argued. 

Maisie just ignored him and sat up. As she pushed the covers off her body, she noticed that he pointedly looked away from her exposed legs. Usually Maisie caught men looking at her – looking away from her was… bizarre. She didn’t like it – especially from a man as attractive as Steve Rogers. 

Regretfully, she ran a hand through her butchered hair and sighed again. 

“It looks better this way,” the captain piped up.

She turned to him, one eyebrow raised. She most certainly didn’t ask for his opinion. “Well, don’t get used to it,” she grunted. “It gets re-dyed blonde the moment I get a hold of a bottle of coloring. If it can’t be long, it’s gonna be blonde.”

Steve opened his mouth and then noted the look on her face – snapping his jaw shut with a click. “I’m here to take you to your room,” he offered instead. He gestured to the door and Maisie glanced down at her clothing. She was just in a paper gown. The captain seemed to notice the state of undress as well. “Oh.” Only then did both of them seem to notice that he was holding a set of mint green scrubs. “I’ll uh, let you change,” he said, handing her the fabric.

The scrubs weren’t… bad. Not nice either. But she was used to the prison jumpsuit so… better than terrible. And someone had thought to include a bra and underwear. She didn’t want to know how they knew her size. 

When she emerged he was awkwardly standing outside the door. She followed him in silence until they reached the elevator.

“So, just a curious thought,” she began. He glanced at her nervously and she knew that he knew she was up to something. “The fire burned off my hair because it was genetically compatible with my new molecular chemistry – or at least, that’s Dr. Banner’s theory. I know for a fact that my prison jumpsuit wasn’t molecularly compatible. So who found me naked – you or Fury?”

Rogers very specifically watched the numbers on the top panel as the elevator descended. “It was me,” he admitted. 

“I’m going to assume, based on your clean-cut, always-do-the-right-thing look that you did the gentlemanly thing and didn’t take advantage of my vulnerable state?” 

He tore wide eyes from the panel and floundered a little before clearing his throat and straightening his back. “Of course I didn’t take advantage of you.”

The elevator dinged and the door opened. “Wasted opportunity, Stars and Stripes,” she cackled and left him in the dust. The hallway wasn’t anything she recognized, but she didn’t recognize anything here. “Where exactly are we?”

“The Avengers Tower,” Rogers answered.

“Where is that?” she asked. “What is that?”

“New York,” he clarified. “It used to be Stark Tower and then Stark renamed and repurposed it. It houses Stark Industries and some science labs – mostly for Stark’s crazy antics. More recently, Stark renovated some floors for living spaces.”

This must be the living spaces, Maisie decided. It seemed like a hotel, rows of doors with numbers. It all looked sleek and stylish. 

“Here’s where you’ll be staying,” Rogers informed her, stopping in front of a door labeled 349. There was no doorknob and Maisie frowned first at the door and then at him. He placed his palm flat on the door and it slid open abruptly. The aroma of fresh paint hit her in the face and she rubbed her nose as she looked around. It was pretty sparse – concrete floors, metal-framed bed, a metal chair. There was another door that Maisie hoped was the bathroom. It was all fire-proof, she realized.

“Out of one cage and into another,” she quipped. 

Rogers didn’t say anything immediately but instead asked, “Do you need or want anything? Tony said they could bring in a radio or even a television set.”

“A radio?” Maisie shot him a look. “When you get to the 21st century, feel free to let me know.”

His jaw tightened and he turned to leave. 

“I suppose a computer would be completely out of the question?” she asked before he could retreat. She wasn’t allowed a computer or internet in the prison so she’d managed to accept life without it, but all the exposure to the Stark technology was really hitting her craving right where it hurt. 

He only raised an eyebrow at her and opened the door with his palm. 

“I like books,” she tried on last time before he managed to leave. He didn’t turn around again, but she hoped he’d heard her. 

Half and hour later the door slid open. Maisie was towel-drying her pathetic hair after a very relaxing shower and heard the swoosh. In just a wet towel, she left the bathroom to greet whoever had come to pester the prisoner. Rogers observed her, pointedly avoiding looking away from her face. 

“Those for me?” She pointed to the stack of books in his hands. 

“Yeah.” He put them on the metal chair and turned to leave. 

“Thanks, dude,” she managed to get out right before he left again. Sometimes she thought she should be nicer to people and then she remembered she didn’t owe anyone anything. It made her feel better as she sauntered over to the stack of books. Of course his taste would be old fashioned. She nearly scoffed. But… some of these books would have been after his time, she realized. And all of them were pretty decent. And, at least, they were better quality than the prison library.

The books didn’t hold her long, though. She was an avid reader, but had always had to take breaks between chapters to rest her eyes and stretch her spine. 

Unfortunately that meant that she had time to ponder about her situation. They wanted to use her powers for their own benefit, that much Fury had explained to her in the prison. But, she didn’t know whether she wanted to help them – or if she could. 

The frat fire had been… a surprise. Certainly. She hadn’t had any indication of being able to do that. But after the fire, after she figured out she was the cause – she had experimented with the fire. Her yard had taken a brutal hit as she had tried to call the fire out without getting overwhelmingly upset in the first place. It hadn’t worked too well. 

And honestly, if they were going to lock her up with very little to do, she was going to use the time to at least try to get a leg up on these guys. Opting to avoid the bed and the flammable bed sheets, she sat on the concrete floor, tucking her legs underneath herself. 

Taking a deep breath, she tried to remember her childhood spent watching Avatar: The Last Airbender. Surely she could learn something from the firebenders now. A deep breath in her nose, out her mouth. She lifted her hand up and squinted for a while. Nothing happened. So, she closed her eyes. Nothing happened. She tried to remember that night… in the frat house. She had been so angry. It had whirled around her stomach and spilled from her fingers in hot bursts of aggression. 

Vividly, she remembered walking into that room, calling for Sarah and hoping she hadn’t had a seizure yet. She remembered the look on the boy’s faces, how guilty they looked as they saw who was standing in the doorway. And then, her gaze fell to Sarah on that bed and everything flamed around them all. 

Sirens blared in her ears, lights blinking around her. Smoke wafted from her upstretched hand, but that was it. The sirens had broken her concentration and she had lost the flame. But her flesh felt so hot – not in a bad way, just… alive. There must have been flame in her hand. Fuck the sirens, she decided. Why were they blaring anyways? Was the Tower being attacked? She sure hoped not, as she stood up.

And then the door burst open.

Stark, Rogers, Banner, and two people Maisie didn’t know crowded into the room.

“Oh,” she realized. “The sirens are for me.”

“You used your abilities,” Stark guessed.

“I was practicing,” she snarked back at him.

“We have special rooms for that,” he shot back.

“Well, you certainly designed this room to withstand me practicing.”

“Safety precautions.”

“Open invitation.”

“Stark,” an unfamiliar woman interrupted. “Obviously you’ve proved your point. She won’t do it again.”

“Maybe I will,” Maisie shrugged. “I have an instinctive desire to rebel against authority figures.”

The woman looked her up and down. “Desire, but not the authority.”

“I make fire with my mind,” Maisie shot back. This lady looked dangerous, but Maisie had the feeling that she was enjoying the banter. “It’s all the authority I need.”

She smiled and nodded at Maisie. “Natasha Romanoff,” she introduced. 

“Maisie Logan,” she responded. There was something about the redhead that made Maisie feel more at home. 

The group began to disperse, realizing Maisie wasn’t quite the threat they were expecting. 

“If you want to practice, we can have someone take you to our training area after dinner tonight,” Stark offered. 

“I’m pretty beat,” Maisie snarked. “I’ll probably just read some more. Maybe do some jumping-jacks. What do prisoners stereotypically do while preparing for a jailbreak?” 

Romanoff snorted, shook her head, and turned to leave with the rest of the group.

“Hey!” Maisie called after her, stepping around Stark. “As the only female I’ve encountered here, can you do me a favor? I don’t trust these menfolk to get it right.”

“Need some feminine care products?” Stark teased behind her. 

Maisie ignored him. “A box of medium ash blonde hair dye would be a life saver,” she continued. 

Romanoff observed her for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.” And then Maisie was left with Stark.

“Why do you want to be a blonde for?” he asked, already heading out the door.

“They have more fun, I know for a fact,” she shot back at him. “And considering the boatload of fun I’m predicted to have here, I’m gonna need it.”

Stark just chuckled deeply and left. 

After another half and hour gone, Maisie seriously considered practicing again just so they’d all rush back and she’d have some company. Prison had never been this lonely.

~*~

 

Dinner was served in her room.

She tried not to be offended at the fact that she wasn’t even being allowed out of her room, but she couldn’t help but snark, “So I’m being punished for my little outburst, huh?” 

Steve Rogers just frowned at her and put the tray on her little metal chair. “You’re a grown woman. You shouldn’t be throwing tantrums in the first place.”

“You call that a tantrum?” Maisie asked, climbing off her bed and abandoning her book. “Believe me, Fourth of July, when I throw a tantrum, you will know. Hopefully, you won’t end up too singed.”

“Right,” the captain just rolled his eyes and headed for the door. Maisie was getting sick of his stoic and tense exits, but she didn’t mind the view of his backside… She had the sudden desire to keep his attention for just a while longer. 

“I don’t eat meat,” she told him. When he twisted around, she gestured to the tray with a huge plate of chicken and a small side of green beans. 

He hesitated for a moment and then made an executive decision, “I’ll ask the cooks if they have something vegetarian.”

“I appreciate it,” Maisie said. For a moment he just looked at her like he was waiting for her to say something snarky. She was almost tempted to add in something snarky just because he was expecting it. Then, she opted to not give him the satisfaction.

The captain was only gone for about ten minutes, returning with a plate of spaghetti in red sauce. This time he handed her the plate instead of putting it on the chair. Maisie had eaten the green beans, picking around the parts that had touched the chicken. There was also a little container of Jell-O she was currently eating as the door slid open. 

“What if I changed my mind?” she asked around the spoon in her mouth. 

“About what?” he asked, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. 

“The practicing?” Maisie put the Jell-O off to the side and stood. “Stark mentioned that I was allowed to go practice my fire starting freakishness after dinner.”

Rogers thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “But finish your spaghetti first,” he commanded. 

Maisie stared at him for a moment, mouth gaping. “I’m sorry – are you my jailer or my father?”

“Neither,” he replied. 

She watched him for just a moment longer and then announced, “I’m not hungry anymore.”

Oh goodness, she knew she was acting like a child. She knew she was a twenty-seven year old woman and she was acting like a snotty teenager. To be fair, he acted like an old man and she was probably instinctively de-aging herself. 

Rogers narrowed his eyes and sighed, leaving the room. When the door didn’t immediately slide closed, Maisie hesitantly followed. He was waiting for her in the hallway. In silence, she followed him down the elevator a few floors and then down a few hallways. He put his hand up against yet another sliding door and suddenly Maisie was confronted by an extremely long hallway. Each door was labeled things like, “archery,” “gun range,” “rope course,” and “boxing.” Rogers paused in front of an unlabeled door. When he opened it, Maisie glanced around, fascinated. 

The room was dark and empty. There was some kind of metal on the walls, floor, and ceiling. Maisie figured it was all fireproof. 

She slowly stepped into the room and was suddenly at a loss.

“What do I do?” she asked. 

“I don’t know,” Rogers shrugged. “This isn’t my expertise.”

“You’re helpful,” Maisie muttered.

“What did you do in your room?” Rogers asked. “You managed to create flame enough to set off the sensors. And you did manage to set a house on fire a few years ago, so how did you do it then?”

Maisie ignored the last part, not wanting to talk about that incident. Instead, she plopped down and crossed her legs. Holding out her hand, she closed her eyes and tried to remember that heat in her abdomen. She had been angry and vengeful, and she tried to focus those feelings into the palm of her hand.

Footsteps behind her took her out of her head. Those footsteps were followed by Roger’s voice, “Open your eyes.”

Her eyes slowly opened and she blinked at the sight of flame licking up into the air. More importantly, she was holding the flame. It came from her skin, reaching up a foot into the air, flickering but not going out. She was mesmerized by the red and orange and yellow. 

When the footsteps began again she spoke without tearing her eyes away from the flames, “I’d stay back, Stars and Stripes. I don’t know how well I can control this.”

But he didn’t move. Instead he said, “Maybe you should try to throw it?”

“Throw it?”

“Like a fireball?”

“Yes.”

“You really want me to be able to throw a fireball?” Maisie joked. “You really want your prisoner armed and dangerous?” 

“I’m sure I could still handle you,” he shot back. He was… joking around with her. In an almost flirtatious way. Shocked, Maisie glanced back at him, mouth gaping. The heat in her hand immediately fizzled out. She barely noticed. 

Instead she scoffed, “That’s what you think.” Then, she stood and stuck her hand out again. Recalling the flame was easier this time. She didn’t dare look away from the fire for fear it would go out again. However, she slid her left leg back and cocked her arm up and back, preparing to let the fireball go. Just like a baseball, she tried to toss the fire into the air. It stayed firmly attached to her hand. 

Frowning, she tried to throw it again, but it refused to form into a ball and leave her hand. 

“Let me know when you’re armed and dangerous,” Rogers said, chuckling and head for the door. 

“Where are you going?” Maisie asked, the fireball disappearing from her hand. 

“Dinner. I’ll be back in an hour.” And then the door slid closed behind him.

~*~

“She seems spunky,” Nat observed. 

“That’s one word to describe her,” Bruce added. The two of them were watching the monitor. Steve hadn’t been aware there were cameras in the practice rooms and vocalized that observation.

“Just that one,” Stark explained. “I figured if anything went wrong, we’d want footage to see what exactly happened.”

“It seems like she has a handle on it,” Clint spoke up, bringing over a plate of vegetables from the kitchen next door. Nat reached over and grabbed a stem of steamed broccoli. 

“In a controlled environment at least,” Nat said. “I’d be curious to see how well she handles herself under stress.”

“So are you actually going to get her some hair dye?” Stark asked, reaching for his own stalk of broccoli.

“Why not?” Nat shrugged. “Her hair looks pretty… pathetic the way it is now. Might as well help a girl out.”

“I think it looks nice,” Steve spoke up, grabbing a slice of turkey from a plate that was already set out. He was happily munching on a forkful when he realized the group had basically gone silent. “What?” he asked. 

“He’s growing up,” Stark cooed. “I’m so proud.”

Steve glared at the man and went back to eating his turkey. It was true – her blonde hair had looked unnatural, especially with her darker roots. Yeah, her hairstyle was much shorter now, but it was all one color and it looked nice. It framed her face really well and she had a habit of running a hand through it when she was frustrated. 

“When do you think she’ll be ready to start working?” Bruce asked, focused primarily on Tony.

“If she can hold the flame and maintain it, she should be able to do it tomorrow,” Tony decided. He gestured with his fork to the monitor. She was still busy trying to throw the fire, but it refused to leave her palm. However, as far as Steve could see, she hadn’t put the flame out yet. If she could maintain it, she could begin helping the Banner and Stark as soon as possible. “After that,” Stark continued. “I think we can begin her training.”

“Her training?” Steve immediately perked up, the turkey forgotten.

“Well, she’s struggling with the throwing now, but she’ll learn,” Stark explained. “I’m willing to bet once she gets a handle on her powers she’ll be pretty dangerous.”

Steve glanced at the monitor. She was still trying to throw the fire and was obviously getting very frustrated about it. Her cheeks were almost as red as her flame. Suddenly she let the fire go out and plopped back down on the ground, apparently defeated. 

“Too bad,” Nat said, also watching the footage. “I was rooting for her.”

“You, what? Want her to join the team?” Steve questioned. 

“I want her to be able to use her powers with a certain amount of efficiency,” Stark clarified. “And I want her to remember who taught her how to do that. And I want her to recall those people fondly so that we don’t have a firestarter joining the enemy someday.”

“And weren’t you guys attacked when you retrieved her?” Nat threw in. “If someone’s after her, she should be able to at least help in her own defense. I support it.” 

“Me, too,” Clint agreed.

“It’s the best option for her,” Bruce explained when he caught Steve still looking skeptical. “I know what it’s like to not be able to control yourself. Before we send her on her way, we should at least make sure she can handle herself.”

“She exploded the car just fine,” Steve reminded him. 

“She might not be able to rely on that in the future,” Stark added his two cents. “But if she had a better grasp on her abilities she could escape without causing a massive explosion.”

“Rogers,” Nat got his attention. “It’s a smart move.”

Steve looked between each person around the table. Honestly, he had no idea why he was so against her learning to use her powers. He had a feeling it was because he didn’t exactly trust her moral compass to always remain on point. She had already killed a few people with her powers and seemed like she was completely without remorse. Then again… what’s the worse that happened? She goes crazy and has to be taken down? Steve could handle her just fine. The Avengers could definitely handle her just fine. 

“Alright,” Steve finally gave in.

“Great!” Stark clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Any volunteers to teach our resident firecracker?”

The conversation digressed after that and soon Steve noticed an hour had passed. He quickly made his way to the practice rooms and slid the door open – only to instantly duck as a fireball narrowly missed his head. 

“What the hell?” he yelled, standing up straight again. Maisie stood in the middle of the dark room, a small fire sassily flickering in her hand. She was smirking, hip cocked. 

“I did it,” she announced, unnecessarily. “Armed and dangerous.”

“You’re only armed and dangerous when you can actually hit me,” he shot back. Which was a mistake he realized, as her eyes narrowed and her hand shot out again. Steve had to jump to the side, tucking and rolling. He was back on his feet in enough time to hop in the other direction as another fireball came his way. Frowning at her, he began sprinting in her direction. She shot another fireball and he jumped high in the air leaping clear over her. Before she pivoted to face him, he grabbed her - one arm around her waist, one high up on her chest pinning her arms. 

She squirmed a bit but quickly realized she was trapped. 

As she relaxed, Steve suddenly took account of their positioning. She wasn’t very tall – probably average height – but she was just tall enough for her head to be cradled in the nook of his neck and collarbone. More alarmingly, her backside was snug against… areas. Suddenly Steve was too warm and he immediately blamed it on Maisie’s fire practicing heating up the room.

~*~

Well, this was an interesting turn of events. Maisie really couldn’t say she was complaining. When he had come sprinting at her, she’d definitely freaked. It wouldn’t have been the first time she had been in over her head on account of these powers. Basically, she had sincerely regretted her actions as her life flashed before her eyes. 

He had done that little flippy thing right over her and before she could even blink he was behind her, she was encircled in his arms.

Pressed against him like that, Maisie quickly noted that he was hard as a rock – his muscles, not his… other parts. But she could feel that just fine too. When she realized he wasn’t going to pop her head off with his massive muscles, she relaxed and opted to enjoy it while it lasted. 

Two years surrounded by nothing but women had been… depressing. She missed men who were not prison guards. Not that the captain wasn’t a prison guard of another kind. He was certainly more attractive though.

Far too soon, he tensed up and Maisie knew he had figured out that their position was rather compromising. She tried to bite her tongue, but her nature was too devious to pass up this chance. “My, my, my, captain,” she whispered in a exaggeratedly husky voice. “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

She was released so quickly, she almost fell over. 

He was looking at her like a disappointed parent and all she could do was scoff. “That was a joke, Stars and Stripes,” she told him.

“It wasn’t funny,” he growled. Maisie hadn’t thought until this moment that he was capable of growling. It was certainly sexy. She almost made a comment on it and then decided against it. Better not poke the bear. 

“It was a little funny,” a voice suddenly boomed over the intercom Maisie hadn’t been aware was even there to begin with.

“Shut it, Nat,” Rogers spoke up.

Maisie snuck a glance at the captain and found a light blush staining his cheeks. 

“You’re Irish, aren’t you?” she fielded a guess. 

When all he did was glare at her, still apparently not over her joke, the intercom spoke again, “He’s second-generation Irish.”

“I can tell,” Maisie smiled. “Only Irish people blush that shade.”

Rogers gave her one last look and then strutted out of the practice room. When Maisie tried to follow him she quickly realized he had actually left her this time. He’d also left the door wide open. She was free. Smiling mischievously, Maisie glanced around, excited to be able to explore this place on her own terms. She followed the hallway out of the practice areas and saw the elevator in the distance. So, she went the other way. 

She’d only gone a few steps when another voice boomed over the intercom. “Good try, Logan,” Stark said. “Back to your room. Now.”

“Or else what?” Maisie asked, crossing her arms. She had no idea where the camera was but she tried to give a rebellious look in the general direction of the intercom. 

“Or else I will send the Hulk to tuck you in.”

She rolled her eyes but retreated to her jail cell regardless.

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally did this. Oops.


End file.
